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It’s cold outside. The seasons are shifting, and the smell of autumn is drifting in from the breeze. It’s earthy, and the scent carries strong hints of campfires and crisp frost. Every morning a chilled fog sinks in, and every early morning Kokichi’s eyes rest open. Until he got up.
The shared bed creaked as he sat up. The arms that were around his upper torso slipped around his waist. Carefully, he touched his chilled fingers around slim wrists. He pulled warm arms from around him and slid off the mattress. The room temperature seemed to drop since yesterday, he sighed, softly closing the bedroom door behind him.
Goosebumps rose along his arms and legs, small tremors ran up and down his spine as he walked down the hall. His bare feet cold against the wood floor.
He listened to the eerie wind whistling through the windchime on their apartment porch. The gentle sound was muffled by the closed glass sliding door. He pushed it open, allowing a breeze to push itself into the main living area. The chill made him shiver, but in a way he enjoyed it.
There was a fluffy mat set before the doors, he sat down on it and gazed up at the brightening sky. The fog was thick today, it’s milky mist clouded the glass doors, and a thin layer of spreading ice covered the outside of it. Kokichi leaned over to press a hand to the cold surface.
He shivered again, the biting ice nipped at his reddening hand but melted under his fingertips. He wrung out his wet hand, using his shirt to wipe off the moisture. Another breeze coasted by, his ears and nose started to get pinker. His fingers already were stiffening. He tucked his cold bare legs under his oversized shirt, still staring at the ice colored sky.
Grey, with a hint of pastel blue and puffy lines of faded clouds. Kokichi set his chin on top of his shirt-covered knees. Now pulled tight to his chest. The chill woke his senses, and in a way made him tired. He blinked sleepily. His head leered to the side, his lips losing color in the cold.
He doesn’t remember when he liked the cold so much. And it wasn’t like he enjoyed the cold itself, more so the feeling it gave when it drifted over his bare arms, and picked at the tips of his nose. It was the feeling of brittle pain. Cold and unwelcoming, jarring and shocking, painful, and pricking.
He liked the pain. So did Shuichi. Their scars laid in different places on their skin but shared similar pain. Shuichi’s scars laid on his wrists, pretty cut and dry for any observant onlookers. Kokichi’s scars laid somewhere else. Decorating the areas around his thighs. No one would’ve known about those. Kokichi remembered thinking, jokingly, of course, always joking, that the only one who would see them is a lover.
Though not in the way most people think. He never imagined he’d ever sleep with anyone, and normally when he goes to bed, he wears loose short-shorts. They lay bare for any curious eyes to see. Though when Shuichi did see them, it was when they first moved in together.
It was a quiet moment. Kokichi cracked a joke about his pervy eyes, and Shuichi looked away. But he smiled after, softly, and said he’s glad they were healing scars, and not open wounds.
Kokichi had walked off after that. Unsure of how to feel.
Another breeze hit his face, and he let loose a breath he wasn’t aware of holding. His cheeks were stained red now, bitten by the cold air. As if the ice color from the sky was draining away with gusts of wind, and sending it his way.
Before another thought was born, strikingly warm arms curled around his sinking shoulders. At the sudden touch, he flinched, instinctually wishing to pull away. But he couldn't mistake those arms for anyone else. “...Morning Shuichi.” He hummed, the boy had knelt behind him, his arms drooped over Kokichi’s chest, pulling him closer so he leaned against him.
“...Morning,” He greeted, taking Kokichi’s red fingertips and squeezing them between his warm palms. Kokichi pulled his legs out from under his shirt, so he could better rest against him. “...mm you’re cold…” He muttered, his forehead pressed against his head, his face in Kokichi’s wild hair.
“...really?” He chuckled, “...hadn’t noticed.” He turned his head, craning his neck to look up into the foggy eyes of sleepy Shuichi. “...and you’re tired. What is it, 6 in the morning? Go back to bed.” He leaned back so Shuichi reached out to cradle his upper back with a steady arm. He laid his legs draped over Shuichi’s.
It was addicting running his hands through beautiful blue hair, it makes him close his eyes, and exhale peacefully. Always through his nose, as the softest smile warms his pale lips. “...it’s 5,” He murmured, “...in the morning, and the bed is cold.”
Kokichi scoffed quietly. “...you’re being picky, if you wanted me back you should just ask.” This made that morning graveling, earthy chuckle come up Shuichi’s throat. And Kokichi’s heart rocks back and forth on its heels. The sound was heavenly.
“You always say no.” He said softly, opening his eyes to blink slowly. Tired doe eyes are so bright and pretty in the morning. “...because you find pleasure in having me pick you up to drag you back.” Kokichi snickered at the idea, his fingers slowly fell from his messy blue hair to coast past his temple, and trace his jaw.
“..You’re right,” He whispered, his voice grew softer since it only now seemed to hit that he was lying in his lap. Being comfortably held against him naturally relaxed and giving one another that disgusting loving look as if this was beyond natural. “...one day though, you’ll stop chasing.” His hand lingered near his lips, then dropped.
His smile dipped and he distracted himself with the crease in his forehead. Before Shuichi could refute it, he kept talking. “...I’m boring. You should know that by now.” He expected Shuichi to look sad, he expected peace-filled eyes to sour. But all Shuichi did was lower his arm until Kokichi’s head gently touched the floor, and Shuichi leaned over and pressed a lasting kiss to his forehead.
It wasn’t too long that his lips were against his forehead. Right where his bangs fell tousled. It was long enough for Kokichi to feel it, and close his eyes, to enjoy the feeling. It was less of the sensory, and more of the meaning. It was sweet, too sweet. Warm and painfully loving.
“...I don’t think you’re boring.” He says kindly, reaching a warm tipped finger to comb the remaining strands of bangs out of his doubt-filled eyes. “...I think you’re so much more to you. Even though you feel like you have to be entertaining.”
Kokichi brought his hands to his chest, he stared up at Shuichi, whose face hovered over his. “...you just like kissing me.” He jokes hollowly, though this doesn’t kill Shuichi’s strong eyes. They were still warm, burning with fire, flickering with a truth Kokichi doesn't have himself.
“...Mm,” Shuichi tilted his head, “...I won’t deny that, but I didn’t move in with you because you kissed well.” Kokichi turned his head to the side. Eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to stare at the breeze shifting his hair over his eyes. A distant chuckle falls from Shuichi’s lips again, and suddenly kissing him doesn’t sound half bad.
“...You didn’t love me when we moved in together,” Kokichi spoke, as he felt the persuasive hand of Shuichi’s fingers guide his chin, so his closed eyes faced up again. “... you’re giving me the eyes.”
“You aren’t even looking.”
“I don’t need to.”
There’s that warm chuckle again. And his breath hit his cheek, the heat began building in his chest, like sickly sweet honey, dripping over his pounding heart. Suddenly he isn’t so cold or chilled. He lifted his eyes open, and those amber eyes are still filled with affection. “...can I kiss you?” He asks, his fingers are almost burning his cheek. And the rosiness tinting his ears is no longer the frost.
“...no.” He muttered, wearing a helpless smile, tilting his head so his chin curved with his.
Shuichi only chuckled again, his breath grazed his lips, and the small gap closed. Kokichi hates feeling this warm, Shuichi makes his head buzz with something faint. Eerie, even, like he’s dizzy, and his balance in his heart wobbles unsteadily. What little resistance he thought he had dissolved when he pressed his lips against his.
Warm, soft, mixed pleasantly with morning breath. He couldn’t bring himself to chuckle, not even smile, because Shuichi’s hands pressed against his palms, his fingertips drawing light lines over his shoulder, crawling to rest warm fingers against his cheek. His kisses are sweet, it’s easy to get grossly addicted to each subtle inhale, how each breath, though sour, hit his chin.
The chill is still there, the frigid air breezing past them, changing fall, changing feelings, Kokichi’s heavy eyes close as he reaches his arms up. Shuichi has such broad shoulders, slender, and lean, but wide and sturdy. Under his fingers, Kokichi could feel the muscles in his neck were relaxed, as he drew himself to hug him, head tilted, pressing against his lips. Encouraging distraction. Anything, absolutely anything, to drag the previous thoughts out.
The warmth is incredible, pooling in his chest, gathering bundles in his mind. It’s not the kiss itself, no, that’s a simple touch. The burning sensation blooms from the feeling built behind it. Behind the smile bleeding into rosy lips, behind the circles he drew on his skin, behind each gentle pressure, soft, kind, considerate.
It’s shocking how much lust it lacked. They never hungrily grabbed at one another. Or knitted a distance between one another due to little physical affection. Rather, the kisses were made out of the kind of desperation a neglected child might have. Starved of care, left craving a form of attention born from poor treatment.
And once a neglected child is warmed up from the chill of the frigid breeze, when someone comes in and wraps their arms around them, promising that love isn’t scary, then slowly an appetite comes back. Roaring like the most painful pinch in the core of the stomach.
Each unbroken kiss from Shuichi further stole his breath. He’s heard you need to breathe through your nose to kiss longer, but his focus is on him, the warmth he hates, and the lips against his own. Though when he does break apart, his arms are around his neck, he chuckles, a crackling laugh humming as he hangs his head back.
Shuichi’s smile is almost as scorching against his jaw as it is in his chest. He’s breathing the same rhythm Kokichi does. He presses his lips against the underside of his jaw, short and chaste touches travel down his neck, so gentle that it tickles, his strained giggles bubble and pop when he feels warm lips along his collar bone.
Warming up to heat prickles and stings. Thawing to the idea that someone might love you, and not the pleasure you could give when you use certain words, or present yourself in a certain way, or kiss with passion blinded by excited youth.
“...tell me the obvious,” Kokichi whispered, shuddering as another breeze sent chills down his back. “...I’ve forgotten again…” His eyes are still squeezed shut because no matter how many times he’s rested in his arms, surrendered to his kind and innocent kisses, and let his reassuring words be said hushedly in his ear, tears threaten to come back. They always do. Always.
Much like most addictive and unhealthy lifestyles, relapses are always of high risk.
“...Mm, then I’ve forgotten too if the only refresher is words,” Shuichi said softly, reaching his hands up behind his head. His fingers entangled in his purple hair, leaving the back of his palms resting against the floor. “...Since, kisses don’t add up to words.” There’s a lilt of humor in his voice, but it’s doused in just a bit too much sarcasm.
Neglected kids can go cold again. After preparing for a lasting winter, the supply for that winter doesn’t disappear. It stays, even when it’s warmer. Because it could get cold again, the comforting season won’t last. It will fade, it always fades, doesn’t it?
“...Sorry,” Kokichi sighed, his eyes opened only a crack. Shuichi is still staring at him. The way he always stares at him when he's tired, and his head is heavy, and the only thing on a slow and poorly rested mind is drowsy affection. “...Love you, Shuichi.” The words used to tumble out of him awkwardly. Because no one had ever said them to him, nor has he said it to anyone before Shuichi.
Even when they move climates, and chilly seasons don’t creep in again, the supply is still there. Just in case. In case the weather patterns crack, though rare and illogical, there needs to be a backup plan, and if there isn’t…
“...Promise?” Shuichi’s voice is so quiet now. As if the buzz in the air hushed for him.
...then the cold will mercilessly rip you apart.
“Promise,” Kokichi whispered, mimicking his tone. He smiles when Shuichi puts that palm against his cheek, so he could tilt his head into it. Warmblood finally greets heat. Kokichi can’t say he feels cold, even with the door to the freezing world wide open.
Eventually, over time, the longer the backup plan becomes more useless than it had ever been. The safety net is unneeded. And the thing that catches you is those warm arms. Like a trust fall, except you aren’t expecting to be caught.
Shuichi laughed softly. “...Then I love you too.”
It’s the moment you exhale, limp in the arms that prevented you from a fatal drop, that you realize, maybe, perhaps, this season is permanent. The warmth will resonate.
And Shuichi's love is not only real, but this time, it will stay.